


You Know What Really Gets My Goat?

by Draikinator



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Sans is a little self depicrative also heads up, Second Person, but everyone gives sans magical dong but thats so uncreative imho, i dont know what im doign i only write robot porn im sorry, magical puss puss, sans is reader, skelesin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 17:53:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5258045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draikinator/pseuds/Draikinator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thsis s  is just straigt up soriel smut purely because i wanted to see if i COULD i wont defend myself</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Know What Really Gets My Goat?

Toriel’s running her jellybean-pawpads over your ribs, tracing the insides with dulled clawtips like she can’t get enough of you. It’s definitely new- you’re not exactly a virgin, but this sort of thing had never interested you before- slow, romantic, more than just a way to pass the time or out of curiousity, just to see if you could. You’re worried about your hands, because she’s so soft, thick fur that can get caught in your joints and warm flesh that can bruise under the hardness of your touch.

You self consciously kind of want to stop and find gloves, maybe, because you feel like it would be more comfortable for her, she can’t possibly be enjoying this, but selfishly, maybe, you’d also miss the unfamiliar warmth of her skin against your bones, warm and real and moving and moist. She gasps lightly, breathily, when you run your phalanges over the soft puckered nipples on her breasts, cupping them from beneath against the gentle fat and rubbing circles into the pink centers with your thumbs.

“you don’t have to-” you start when she slips her paws down the inside of your spine and onto your pelvis, and she stops, the warmth of them radiating outward along the flat cold panels of your body where her pawpads are resting.

“Do you not want me to?” She asks, very honestly. You aren’t sure what to say, so you look down at her hands. It feels nice, there.

“yes- no- i mean, uh, you can- keep going, if, uh, you want-” you stammer, like an idiot, and you run your hands down her sides and onto her thighs, wrapped around your waist like a voluntary prison, coating you in warmth and flesh and life. She smiles at how awkward you are and leans down to press her muzzle against your face, lips moving against your teeth and cheek and forward, warm and wet and affectionate. Her breasts are pressed against your ribcage, spilling inbetween the negative space and her hands are moving again, rubbing warm circles into your ischium that make you gasp and twitch and jerk, hands clenching at her thighs. It must be uncomfortable, but she doesn’t make you move them so you don’t dare.

Her mouth moves down your neck and then your collarbone, teeth grazing and nipping lightly, and you can just feel the warmth of her tongue and the insides of her cheeks when she sucks at it, making you cling and twitch that much harder, and she moves downward, leaving kisses on each row of ribs before mouth is on your pelvis and your head snaps back into the mattress, panting. You forget yourself for a moment, lost in the sensation, and then squeeze your eyes shut, feeling your own soul out.

You aren’t sure what you really want to put down there at first, but you want it to be something she’s familiar with, as a flesh monster, because it seems polite, and you feel a surge of pride at her reverent, breathy intake when she sees the cyan hue of your wispy soul magic fill the girdle of your pelvis. It’s not an exact copy of hers, you’re probably a fifth of her size, easy, but it’s a decent approximation of a vagina and she seems to be satisfied, with the way she’s tracing the entrance, eyes aglow, the warm pads of her fingers tracing the cool magic entrance you’ve made for her.

And then, quite unexpectedly, she leans down and breathes on it, one long, delicious breath that makes you shiver, hands clenching and unclenching on her forearms as she uncurls her flat tongue and licks the whole thing, from bottom to top, before sucking at bulbous clit at the top. Your breath is coming in short little gasps that makes your ribs shake and she slides her palms up the inside of your thigh bones and her thumbs pull the moist folds apart, baring access to the more sensitive inside parts that she nips and sucks at like an expert, playing you like a fiddle and your hands find the base of her horns. They’re not sensitive or anything, you know there’s no nerves in her bones, but it gives you a familiar point of reference to ground yourself on when her lips wrap back around your clit and she slides one wide finger up and inside of you, and the stretch is good, so good, from the feeling of the rough, peppered texture of the pads to the fine fur along the top, it’s so good inside of you- she sucks while she fingers you, one hand pressing in another finger and gently scissoring the blue magic walls of your soul like she could stay inside of it forever and one hand searching until it finds your hand and when her fingers intertwine with yours and you can feel the moisture of her saliva and your own carefully created byproduct on your phalanges you come with a jerk, your spine doubling backwards. You want to yell her name but the sound won’t come, just a low keen from the back of a throat you don’t actually have.

She pulls her fingers out when you go slack and you run your hands down from her horns onto her cheeks and tug her upwards to your face, desperately nuzzling your face into hers, wishing you had the presence of mind to focus your soul into lips to kiss her with, but she doesn’t seem to mind, peppering soft smooches into the crooks and turns of your skull under it stops overwhelming you and you calm down, metacarpals breezing down her face to wrap around her neck, breathing gently.

The feel of her chest moving against yours is amazing, completely unique to her and you almost can’t handle it.

“hey, uh, uh,” you stammer, trying not to get to overemotional over getting eaten out because you don’t want her to think you’re inexperienced or anything, “what did, um. do you you know what really gets my goat?”

She blinks down at you, “No, what?”

“skeleton pussy, apparently,” you laugh, with a lopsided grin, and despite the pathetic joke your addlepated post-orgasm mind has managed to joke vomit out she titters with a peal of laughter and butts her forehead lovingly against yours, meaty nose bumping into your cheek and hands running up your neck to cup your cheek and rub circles into the bone, leaving trails of warmth in their wake.


End file.
